


Past Midnight

by saekhwa



Series: This Bright Array [2]
Category: Hustle Cat
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Overstimulation, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 21:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11632269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/saekhwa
Summary: It wasn't just a surprise. It was an aesthetic.





	Past Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> When I finished what's now become the first story in this little series, I was like: you know, self, I don't actually believe Graves is embarrassed about sex, so what the hell is going on here? So here's a remix of the same story from Graves' POV 'cause why the fuck not. I'm on a roll with these Poetry Fiction prompts.
> 
> Written for [Poetry Fiction's July prompts challenge](http://poetry-fiction-challenge.tumblr.com/tagged/july-mini-prompts):
> 
>  _"Whoever views this bright array will know_  
>  _The delicious pleasure in making the first move."_ — Hồ Xuân Hương

Barebones — that was the state of Nacht's studio apartment. Graves was tempted to hang a skeleton in the corner just to make the description more apt. He'd threatened it enough times, and with his new ability, he could sculpt one… 

He shook his head. A surprise for another time. 

He glanced at the clock set atop the three-drawer wheeling thing that served as Nacht's dresser and estimated that he only had to wait an hour. Assuming, of course, that Nacht hadn't decided to make a detour of his own. Doubtful. The few times Nacht had talked about work, it sounded as if he'd always come straight home when he closed at the bar. 

So Graves picked up the two threadbare pillows and held them a moment, searching the room. His options were few. Honestly, his only option was the closet. He stood off to the side but still braced himself when he opened the door. Nothing came tumbling out, and when he peered around the door, he arched an eyebrow at how well organized it was for such a compact space. Curiosity almost had him drag down the boxes stacked on top of each other on the closet shelf, but he shook his head to clear himself of both the nosey urge and the proverb and shoved the pillows in the small gap between boxes and ceiling, quickly shutting the door. He leaned against it and considered his next plan of action. 

His surprise required a distinct aesthetic. With that in mind, Graves stripped off his shirt, folded it, and tucked it out of sight under the bed. A simple enchantment took care of the bed itself, putting the fitted sheet around its proper corner and smoothing out the lumps that had been the flat sheet and blanket. 

With the bed now in pristine order, Graves carefully laid on top of it, drumming his fingers on his stomach as he absently thought of lyrics to what might be a new song. That only occupied him for a short time, and he glanced at the clock with a sigh. He'd given himself too much time and now he had to wait, and with as late as it was — another glance at the clock just as it ticked over to 4:03 a.m. — waiting risked him falling asleep. 

That, more than anything, made Graves slide out of bed and pace the small room. He switched to peering out the window when that became too monotonous a journey. When that, too, proved boring, he periodically glanced at the clock, paced, glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror, and hummed a few songs to himself until at last, only five minutes remained when Nacht should be walking through the door. 

Sweeping up his hair, Graves laid on the bed again, both hands folded on top of his stomach. He frowned at himself and tried a different pose, hand tucked beneath his head, the other flat on his stomach, one leg cocked. He shook his head and laid on his side, which was the worst of the poses, because it didn't display anything inviting. He settled on an artful Snow White-esque having just eaten the apple and fallen into slumber. 

Another fifteen minutes passed before he _finally_ heard the jingle of Nacht's keys.

Suppressing a smile, Graves closed his eyes and waited, almost holding his breath. Only when he heard the door shut did he open one eye. It was perfect — Nacht advancing with that hungry look that made a thrill of excitement flare in Graves' stomach. 

"You stay up just for me?" Nacht asked, the thread of his fingers through Graves' hair an enticing promise that delivered. 

The sharp tug made Graves arch and his scalp tingle. He was well acquainted with Nacht's leer, and though he wanted nothing more than to ravish and be ravished, he enjoyed dragging this out all the more. Unfortunately, Nacht, too impatient to wait, took the kiss that Graves had denied him. His mouth was as rough as the weight of his body, pressing Graves deeper into the mattress, where a particularly sharp and annoying spring dug into Graves' spine. He attempted to shift, grabbing fistfuls of Nacht's shirt to move him as much as he was able only for Nacht to draw away entirely. 

"Gonna take a shower," Nacht said. 

It seemed counterintuitive, and Graves narrowed his eyes at the suggestive offer in Nacht's smile. He certainly hadn't come here to think unpleasantly of the last time he'd indulged Nacht's creativity in which he nearly drowned. 

As a perfect distraction, Graves stretched his arms, embodying every inch a cat as he made his intentions clear. "I eagerly await your return."

For a moment, it seemed Nacht might abandon his plans, his palm against Graves' groin creating a delicious friction of pleasure that Graves almost moaned for. He choked it off, biting his bottom lip to keep it, which only spurred Nacht to push, and it felt too incredible not to let Nacht have the moan he'd worked so hard for. 

Which made it all the more disappointing that Nacht wasn't going to help Graves out of his leather pants. Graves' erection didn't help matters, and his attempts to peel out of something designed to mold to his body on a cellular level was a decidedly unsexy experience. His combination of shimmying, shoving, and wriggling at least eased the pressure on his cock when he got his pants halfway down his legs. He momentarily surrendered, flopping on the bed, staring upside down into the bathroom, where steam steadily fogged the mirror. 

At the very least, if Nacht had helped him, they would be laughing about this rather than Graves lying here, simmering with annoyance. And not because of his fashion choices, which were _impeccable_. 

One thing he could easily fix — the aggravating springs in Nacht's bed. While it only took a few minutes, it meant that when Graves heard the water shut off, he had to rush. He gripped the end of his pants and _yanked_. It felt like ripping off a fine layer of his skin, and he glanced down to see that it was a bright shade of red as if he'd needed the proof. 

He rolled onto his back to get himself back in the mood but then caught sight of Nacht, dripping wet as he stepped out of the tub. It served as a perfect reminder as to why Graves had gone through all the trouble in the first place. When they made eye contact, Nacht did nothing more than sweep the towel down his body before pouncing. Graves laughed, palms skidding over Nacht's wet shoulders as Nacht crushed his mouth in a kiss that made him forget everything that didn't matter. 

He vocalized his protest when Nacht pulled away but silently forgave him when he teased Graves' nipples, the swipe of his tongue making Graves breathe Nacht's name, wanting more, arching for it. Nacht squeezing his cock was promising. Even more promising — Nacht retrieving the condoms that he stored under the bed. Except… 

"Nice and slow," Nacht said, the condom covering his cock instead of Graves'.

Graves had thought he'd be taken care of first. Well, at least he'd fixed the bed springs. 

He shifted onto his side and moved closer to the edge of the bed, not above a tiny bit of revenge for Nacht making him wait. It seemed, neither was Nacht, who tried to thrust into Graves' mouth. 

"C'mon. Open up."

Graves nearly rolled his eyes but instead gave himself the satisfaction of murmuring, "Brute," under his breath. 

Eventually, he indulged, though, taking Nacht inch by slow inch, knowing exactly what Nacht liked, because at the center of it was always more, more, more.

Even though Nacht framed it as Graves' desire by asking, "You want more, don't ya?"

It didn't require a verbal response, only Graves opening his eyes. Nacht wanted him, fully and fiercely, and yet still had enough patience for them both to find a level of comfort. 

When Nacht finally surrendered to his lust, Graves shut his eyes to better focus on his breathing, on the sensation of Nacht's cock dragging quickly and roughly over his tongue, nudging at the back of his throat. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, each breath a wet, desperate inhale that Nacht choked off with thrust after thrust. 

Graves wasn't always fond of this rough, fast pace, but there was something undeniably appealing about being the focus of Nacht's attention. It was in the way Nacht's thumb pressed to the corner of his mouth and his hand slid through Graves' hair and how he squeezed the back of Graves' neck and tightened his grip on Graves' shoulder, as if each point of contact was an anchor and a reassurance. With Nacht, there was never a single second of doubt. They were always in this together. There was no one else in the world for Nacht, and that thought was almost as heady as making Nacht come. 

It also meant there was never a moment to breathe — from deepthroating Nacht to a kiss that was just as demanding to Nacht's hand around Graves' erection. 

"Tell me what you want," Nacht said, and bit Graves' throat, as if he didn't know the answer was always going to be _everything_. 

Nacht settling between Graves' legs felt like only the start of a short night that he hoped would extend into a long morning and afternoon. Nacht admired Graves' cock, and the rush of pleasure that look alone elicited — Graves hid his face behind his arm to keep the image of it stark as Nacht swallowed him, straight down, always so eager and always so messy. He sucked too hard and his hands were too rough when he shoved Graves' hips down to the mattress, and all of it barreled Graves toward an intense orgasm that left him reeling well past reason. And Nacht didn't stop. 

Graves clawed at Nacht's shoulder, unable to catch his breath. What had been the sweet rush of his climax now turned into sharp, prickling points of overstimulation. Nacht kept Graves on a knife's edge, and Graves trembled from it, softly pleading Nacht's name, knowing that he'd been too quiet, had held himself back too much, and this confession would earn him a reprieve. 

When Nacht finally let him go, Graves collapsed, boneless, eyes stinging as he struggled to slow his breathing. Nacht's weight on top of him hardly helped in that endeavor, but when Graves opened his eyes, Nacht looked so devoted and sincere that he could only smile, basking beneath it. They were both debauched, and it served as its own kind of beauty. 

So when Nacht said, "Stay the night. Mornin'. Whatever. Stay," Graves nodded. 

He wanted nothing more than that promise, sealed with an achingly sweet kiss.


End file.
